


Just Livin' My Life

by WhisperElmwood



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Accents, Asexual Character, Asexual Eggsy, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Bigotry, Child Abuse, Derogatory Language, Fix-It, M/M, Mission Fic, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperElmwood/pseuds/WhisperElmwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy doesn't have a word for what he is, other than 'broken'. And until Harry Hart comes into his life for the third time, he thinks that's all he is.</p><p>A fix it fic in two parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Livin' My Life

**Author's Note:**

> There is seriously so much bad, derogatory, sexist and homophobic language in this, almost all of it directed at Eggsy, so warning for that ok? 
> 
> Eggsy's experiences of being asexual are based a fair bit on my own, not in the wider details, but in the inner monologue and reactions to friends growing up. Everyone's experience of asexuality is different, this is just one way of it.
> 
> The first part of this is very stream of consciousness. The second part will be more traditional narrative, so bare with.

**Just livin my life**

**Part 01**

_**Then** _

Eggsy don't have a word for whatever he is. He's mostly just stuck with 'broken'. See, everyone he knows, and the rest o'the world besides really, has this massive interest that he just... don't. Can't. Fuckin' _won't_.

It starts in primary school. His best mate, at all'a ten, kisses Sharon from 2B and then don't shut up about it for, like, _three fuckin' weeks_. Gary, (for he weren't yet Eggsy, that wouldn't come 'til he was sixteen an' eggin' the Chemistry teacher's digs after a mate's crap test score,) don't get what the fuss is all about. Sure, Sharon's got nice hair an' pretty eyes, but why would anyone wanna touch lips? Yuck.

Anyway, he has more important things to worry about, right? His PE teacher says he's a shoe in for the Olympics! His Mum's right prouda him, and he starts practicin' like five times a week. He don't have time for _girls_.

Then his Mum meets Dean. Dean don't think much'a Gary doin' gymnastics, an' he tells him so at every opportunity.

"Where the fuck you think you're goin'?"

Gary hefts his backpack higher on his shoulders, his gym clothes packed neatly inside. Mum's down the shops, so it's just him an' Dean right now an' he needs ta get ta the gym ta train, his teacher reckons he could make the finals this year. "I hafta go t'the gym, got trainin' tonight." He says the words with pride in his voice, puffs his thin chest out a little.

"You ain't goin' fuckin' nowhere, boy. Get back in here an' clear up this mess. _Now_." Dean don't look happy, an' the flat is a little messy, _but he has t'go_.

"I gotta go t'trainin, Dean..."

Dean musta been drinkin', coz as soon as the words are outta his mouth the man lunges at him, grabs his upper arm tight enough ta bruise, squeezes even harder an' Gary gasps, struggles slightly.

"You ain't fuckin' leavin' this flat, boy." Dean's breath stinks'a fags an' stella, wafts right in Gary's face as he's dragged close. "You just put that fuckin' pansy shit away an' clear up before your Mum gets home, or I'll give you the hidin' a'your damn life." An' he throws him to the livin'room floor.

He has the bruise for nearly two weeks, a huge handprint wrapped around his left upper arm. He manages ta hide it from school, but his Mum fusses over it an' apologizes for Dean, tell's him it won't happen again. He starts goin' ta trainin less an' less.

By the time he reaches eleven, Dean's beaten his Olympic dreams right outta him. Dean tells him no stepson a'his is gonna do nothin' so fuckin' pansy, that no stepson a'his is gonna make him look weak, that no pansy, weak little _fairy_ is gonna cost him that kinda money on somethin' so stupid.

Instead, Dean gets him squeezin' through windows, an' deliverin' messages, even runnin' packages. He hates it, but he gets good at it, takes some small pride in a job well done.

Gary tells his Mum he just lost interest in gymnastics, an' Dean stops hittin' him so much. Not completely though, Dean has other things ta hit Gary over, an' sometimes he put's himself between Dean an' his Mum on purpose, tryin' ta save her from whatever he can. But at least the pansy an' fairy comments stop.

When they get ta secondary school, all Gary's mates start lookin' at the girls. Gary don't get it. He tries ta figure it out, but there ain't no pattern he can follow. His mates start talkin' about kissin' an' snoggin', an' then later they start talkin' about fingerin' an' blow jobs. He really don't get the appeal, too much touchin' an' gettin' in each other's space.

"Siobhàn's right pretty, ey?"

Gary looks at the girl in question, don't know what t'say, "Uh, I guess?"

Jamal grins at him, "What I wouldn' do to snog'er, aight?"

Gary looks at her again, takes in the fact that she's got tits now, an' started wearin' makeup, or somethin', makes her eyes look bigger whatever it is. He shrugs again an' digs his elbow inta Jamal's ribs, "Maybe y'should ask her out?"

Jamal promptly goes bright red under his dark skin an' Gary snickers at him, mostly just happy Jamal ain't askin' for his opinion nomore, coz he ain't got one an' has no idea what ta say.

Dean's goons hang out at his Mum's place all the time, an' he starts hearin' them talkin' about it all, too. Birds, an' shaggin', an' prossies, dozens an' dozens'a new, horrible words for things he don't wanna know about. Their conversations are vulgar an' make his ears burn, make him want ta leave the room.

"Fuckin' tits on her, though, aight?" One'a Dean's goons sniggers at the woman readin' the news on the TV, makes rude gestures ta more sniggers.

Gary tries ta ignore it, ta do his homework, but Dean snorts, replies "Probly a mingin' cunt, though. Fucked 'er way ta the job, yeah? Probly sucked every dick there."

The three men in the room laugh, loudly, horribly. His Mum hits Dean with one of the sofa cushions an' gets up, "Don't talk shit like that in front'a my kid, Dean." Gary looks up just in time ta see Dean smirk, wrap his hand around her backside and pull her down into his lap, she squawks but he holds her down and she can't wriggle away.

"Don't worry so much, babe, he's a growin' boy, he'll be shovin that cock'a his in birds soon enough."

Gary shifts uncomfortably, ears goin' red, a heat crawlin' across his skin. He packs up his homework, his books, everythin' an retreats to his room. He can hear Dean laughin' at him the whole way, can hear his Mum's attempts to make him stop.

Later, when Dean ain't around, he tries t'ask his Mum about all this sex stuff an' why everyone's so hung up on it, but she jus' ruffles his hair an' tells him he'll figure it all out when he's older. Which ain't helpful.

He overhears one'a his mates talkin' to another boy about boys, instead'a girls. He thinks about that for a bit, coz he ain't got no interest in girls, has he? But that don't fit niether, an' even if a small part'a him _can_ see the appeal of, like, cuddlin' with another boy, maybe hangin' out as much as they can, Dean's voice in his head cursin' about fairies an' pansies is pretty damn loud, so he drops it.

His mates ask him who he fancies, an' he just names the prettiest bird in their year an' leaves it at that, pretends ta join in when they go off on one about kissin' an' shaggin' an' the like. He keeps everythin' else deep inside, where no one can get at it.

Dean notices he ain't had any girlfriends by time he's fourteen an' starts in on the fairy an' pansy crap again. He tries not ta be around when Dean gets rat arsed, right? Gary's small, no ignorin' that, but he's fast, so now at least he can avoid a beatin' when Dean feels like givin' him one.

"Fuckin' come back here, ya little faggot!" Dean yells as Gary tears his shirt squirmin' away and out the front door, slammin' it behind him. He looks around, an' checkin' he ain't bein' followed, swings himself up onta the wall, runs along it, sure an' steady, leaps from the end, catches the edge'a the next block, scrabbles, hoists himself up and climbs until he reaches the roof.

There he sits an', feet danglin' over heights that would make his Mum yell at him if she saw him, he wipes his eyes. With a sniff, he makes sure he ain't too badly hurt, wipes blood from his lip, doesn't poke at his cheek from long experience, an' don't come back down 'til he sees the lights turn off in the flat.

But runnin' don't always work, an sometimes Dean still want's him ta help case joints, climb in through too-small windows, run drugs, or whatever else he want's him ta do, so sometimes he's just right there, in Dean's line a fire, right?

One'a Dean's goons gives him a leg up, anglin' him just right ta reach the tiny bathroom window. Gary catches it easily, swings his weight slightly and pulls himself up with only a little bit a'scrabbling against the bricks. At fourteen, he's still small, still thin, an' he can squirm through the window no probs.

Somethin' twists a little in his gut every time he does this, now, but Dean has made it clear what'll happen to him an' his Mum if he don't do as told, so he just does it. He picks his way through the empty house, pocketing anythin' small enough the guys won't notice, but valuable enough ta pawn later for a bit of cash - he wants ta get some nice chocolate an' pay a bill for his Mum for Mother's Day - an' then opens the back door for Dean's men ta slip in an' raid the place.

A'course, when he gets home, Dean catches him with the stuff he nicked ta pawn.

"The fuck'a you tryin' ta pull, y'little tosser?" Gary can't actually reply, Dean's fingers locked as they are around his throat, holdin' him up an' pressin' him against the wall. He splutters anyway, fingers tryin' ta break Dean's grip on him.

"Takin' my haul? Your grubby little fingers all over everythin'?" Dean slams him against the wall an' Gary chokes, feet kickin' a fuckin' foot off the floor. "You live under my roof, y'little shit, y'live by my fuckin' rules. Y'try t'steal from me again an' you'll wish Michelle had aborted ya!" Dean throws him t'the floor an' quickly introduces Gary's ribs to his boots.

He end's up havin' ta take two weeks offa school, hidin' his cracked ribs an' black eyes an' bruisin as best he can. His Mum cries over his painstakin'ly hand made card, an' they spend three days without electricity until Dean throws a hissy fit an' his Mum pawns Gran's earrings ta get money for the meter.

An' sometimes he still has ta get between Dean an' his Mum. He's used ta it.

All'a Dean's yellin' an cursin' with every horrible word for gay in the dictionary gets to him. So, he tries it, right? Gets real drunk on his sixteenth, white lightnin' an' stella a bad combination in his belly, finds a bird that seems ta like him well enough an' does his best. Gary loses his virginity, but also learns that he never wants ta do it again.

That year his mates start callin' him Eggsy, an' he takes ta the name real hard, feels like someone new, someone better. Eventually, even Dean starts usin' it. An' if it's said with a sneer or cursed at him when Dean says it, whatever, it's better'n callin' him all the filthy words Dean can think of for bein' gay, right? Because he's started to realise that, like, he might not want ta shag a bloke, but he kinda wouldn't mind just, like, sleepin' with one? Like, wrapped up an' feelin' safe.

As soon as he graduates secondary school, with a pretty good run'a grades all told, he signs up. Literally _anythin_ ' ta get outta Dean's house, an his Dad was a Marine, yeah? So it feels right good ta follow him. Like he was meant ta.

He does real well, like he's got a knack for it. He's right fit, got a steady eye, can take orders; cleanin' the barracks, an' sharin' space, an' gettin' beat about a bit ain't nothin' new ta him. O'course, the vulgar banter an' conversations about sex are there, too, but he finds he can live with it from the other recruits, it's kinda playful with them, not upsettin' like it is with Dean an' his goons.

The five months he spends in the Marines trainin' are the best of his life. It's a wrench an' a half to quit, but his Mum goes mental, on an' on about losin' him as well as his father to the job, an' he can't say no ta her. He packs his bags, says good bye ta his new mates, gives his notice to the officer in charge, braves the bloke's pityin' looks, an' leaves.

He gets home an' it's like nothin's changed. He goes a bit mental himself. Drugs, drinkin', stealin' shit just for the hell of it, joy ridin'. Anythin' ta get himself ta stop thinkin' about the opportunity he had ta give up to keep his Mum happy, an' safe. An' he does keep her safe, as much as he can.

An' now that he's back, with military trainin' no less, Dean forces him to work for him again. He ain't so small no more, but he's strong, an' fast, an' can talk his way outta bad situations, all things Dean can use. An' that starts gettin' him in situations where birds, an' even blokes, feel right fine slobberin' all over him.

He's there ta collect a package for Dean, stomach twistin' at the thought of what it actually is. The package's in his pocket, an' he woulda left already, but he'd gone in under pretenses of a night out with his mates, an' a bird has slipped up next ta him, windin' her arm around his, makin' his skin crawl an' his shoulders tense.

Eggsy gives the bird a pained smile, tries to sidle away, but she just follows him, hand wrapped around his bicep an' squeezin'. She makes appreciative noises, presses her half-covered tits against his ribs, "Y'sure y'don't want a tumble, babe?" She smiles up at him, presses even closer, "I could be real good for you. Make it worth your while."

Ears red, heat spreadin' across his skin, Eggsy shakes his head an' starts tryin' ta remove his arm from her tight fingers, "Nah, love, I'm good. Why'n't you try me mate Jamal, there? I heard he's fuckin' great in the sack."

When she finally leaves him alone, disappearin' inta the dark with a very pleased Jamal, a bloke takes her place. Eggsy ain't even had time to move before someone's pressin' up behind him, pushin' an obviously interested cock against Eggsy's arse. He don't know how ta react for a moment, his skin, already tight from the bird touchin' him, is now crawlin' at the feel of a semi pressed against him.

Hands on his hips an' lips at his ear have him shovin' away, the man just grins at him, tugs him back in again, this time chest ta chest, semi now pressed inta his hip. "Thought you might be more interested in a good dicking, kid. Shall we?"

Eggsy loses his rag and before anyone in the place even registers what's happened, he's got the guy on his knees, hand twisted up high between his shoulder blades, little whimpers of pain ringing in the sudden silence. He doesn't go back ta that pub for a good three months, an' Dean gives him another black eye for it.

He does his best to put up with the attention he's started gettin', knows objectively that he's considered good lookin', maybe gets in a few fights over the unwanted attention. Worse, he makes the mistake of sleepin' with a guy to see if maybe it'll work now. It don't, an' he spends an hour in the shower after he kick's the bloke out, tryin' to scrub it all off.

The way people look at him, like he's a piece a meat, an' the way they touch him like they own him, it all makes his skin crawl, he can barely deal with hugs from his Mum, let alone touches from complete fuckin' strangers. An' he really does just feel broken, watchin' the way the world around him says he should be shaggin' at every opportunity, kissin' at every other, but he can't deal with simple human contact.

Then Daisy's born an' he realizes he can't keep actin' like a twat. He stops drinkin', stops doin' drugs, stops stealin', only joy rides when he really needs ta blow off some steam, an' goes back ta the gym. Dean don't give half a shit about the baby, his Mum tries her best, an she truly loves him an' Daisy but she has to put up with so much shit from Dean, an' works two jobs just to keep them eatin', that she can't be there all the time, so he basically becomes Daisy's Mum an' Dad an' big bruv all in one. He dotes on Daisy, an' sometimes he feels more like a dad than a big bruv ever should have to.

Mum's at work an' Dean's passed out on the sofa when Eggsy comes in, after a hard day workin' off the books, cash in hand at a construction yard for a bit'a somethin' ta pay the bills. Throwin' Dean's prone form a dirty look, it takes him a moment but then he hears it, soft whimpers from upstairs.

With a curse, he throws himself up the stairs an' into the master bedroom. In the cot in the corner, the sides hung with damp laundry, he finds Daisy. She's red faced an' exhausted, cheeks an' eyes wet, like she's bin squawlin' for hours, reduced now to whimpers. She hiccups an' lifts her arms when she sees him, manages the tiniest of sweet baby smiles.

" _Oh my days_ , Daisy, what's that bas- _bad man_ been an' done?" Eggsy lifts her up an' settles her against his chest, tucks her head under his chin where her soft curls tickle at his throat. He pats her back gently with one hand an' paces slowly back an' forth around the room, talkin' nonsense to her in a soft voice. Daisy sighs an' hiccups again, an' eventually she quiets down, suckin' on her fist, Eggsy croonin' to her the whole while.

As he feeds her the food Dean should'a given her hours ago, Eggsy wishes he could take his baby sister an' just leave, take her away from this shit hole, bring her up proper. But he can't, his Mum'd be devastated, an' Dean would hunt them down.

He keeps Daisy with him the rest'a that night an' blows off work the next day to make sure she don't go lonely or hungry when Dean forgets she exists again. Has to renegotiate his pay as a result, but counts it worth it to keep Daisy safe.

Years livin' that way, protectin' his Mum, protectin' Daisy, an' then Harry bloody Hart shows up.

At first, it's great. He sort of remembers Harry from when he were five, a kind smile an' warm brown eyes, shakin' his old snowglobe before puttin' it safely aside, an' he still, even now, wears the medal Harry gave him. He's drawn t'the man, immediately, to his warm eyes, his broad shoulders, his manners, an' even his stuffy way'a speakin'.

When Harry beats the shit outta Dean's goons in the pub? He can almost understand what everyone was on about all them years. He's thrillin' ta watch. Harry Hart is elegant in his savagery, an' if he didn't know any better, he'd say the man was showin' off.

Kingsman is bloody brilliant. It's like bein' back at the Marines again. Even with the annoyin' fuckin' toffs, an' threat of actual death hangin' over his head, he fuckin' loves it.

An' in like no time at all, a young woman recruit named Roxy Morton becomes his best bloody friend.

"Never pegged one of your sort for enjoying classic musicals, Eggsy," she says one evenin', when she finds him watchin' ' _The King And I_ ' on his phone.

"Oi, just coz I'm a bit rough don't mean I can't appreciate th'good things. S'one'a my favorite films, that." Eggsy gives her a cheeky grin an' slides over a little so she can join him on the bed, she hands him a bottle of beer as she does. She settles in next ta him comfortable in a way he never thought he could be, not even bothered by the way her weight settles against him, an' for a while they just watch. Then; "You are very surprising, sometimes, Eggsy."

"Full'a layers, me," he says with another grin, though he keeps his eyes on the tiny screen, "Like an onion, innit."

Roxy snorts, "Did you just reference Shrek? If so, I may have to change my mind."

Eggsy simply winks at her.

He misses his Mum an' Daisy, an' hopes they're doin' ok while he's trainin', hopes Dean is keepin' Daisy fed an' happy while Mum works. Roxy an' some'a the other recruits keep him occupied with games an' drinks, an' even a bit'a rough housin'. It's fuckin' great, is what it is.

But. Well, he had been under the impression that toff blokes would be a bit less, well, a bit less like every other damn bloke he's ever met. Hadn't Harry said they was meant to be Gentlemen? And wasn't Gentlemen meant to be classy, or decorous or some shit? But no, somehow they're fuckin' worse than Dean's goons, the same rude, vulgar way's a' thinkin', shined up with fancier words. Apparently even toff blokes spend half their damn days talkin' shit about birds an' sex. Every other bloody conversation is which rich bird did this went there let them do what an' for how long, an' _he can't bloody stand it_.

"Excuse me, did you just say Lady Bartoness gave it up behind the gods damned roses of her own family's park?"

Eggsy wrinkles his nose at the other two recruits on his team. They're _meant_ ta be capturin' the damn flag, keepin' quiet an bein' sneaky, but no, these two numbnuts are hashin' it out over a bird they both tried to shag a fuckin' year ago, one of'em apparently successfully.

"I did. Pretty arse on the girl, put it to good use, if I do say so myself."

The two recruits square off at each other, white knucklin' their paint guns. Eggsy growls, "How's about you two gasbag's shut the fuck up an' get back with the damn program? Y'can whip'em out an measure 'em _when we've caught th'fuckin' flag._ "

They do catch it in the end, an' amusingly enough Merlin gives his two team mates a dressin' down for not keepin' their minds on the job, an' gives Eggsy a nod of approval. He celebrates with Roxy, who's own team won in her round, which he puts entirely down ta her, coz her team mates weren't no better'n his an' she's downright fantastic.

An' then it gets so much worse when he realizes he's fallin' in bloody love with his fuckin' mentor. He's never bin in love before, but the fluttery feelin' in his chest, the urge ta spend time with him, ta protect him, ta fight by his side an' learn all he can from him, ta curl up with him, the urge ta learn everythin' about him that the man is willing ta give, as well as the _want_ that curls in his belly for Harry Hart ta be the first an' last person he sees every day for the rest of his life, tells him he might just be now.

He overhears Merlin an' Harry one night, sittin' together in Merlin's office, drinkin' scotch an recountin' what sounds like NLP missions, discussin' the finer details of each conquest like they're discussin' a five star chef's meal or somethin'. An' while at first one or two of'em sounds fun, eventually he can't help it but back the fuck away an' go get roarin' drunk. Coz if he ever does get to be with Harry, the man's gonna wanna fuck him, right? An' he ain't sure he can do that, however much he loves him.

O'course, it all goes tit's up, an Harry fuckin' dies on the other side of the fuckin' world, so that don't even fuckin' matter no more. He goes hard, in the wake of Harry's death, like steel, like granite. Part of him wants ta join him, coz he ain't never gonna find love like that again, is he? Not broken Eggsy, even if he couldn't face even the thought of sex with him, he just knows he'll never feel like that again, never find another person he actually wants to be physically close to, ta spend time with, ta grow old with.

He kills Arthur, don't even flinch over it, that part of him that wants ta be with Harry makin' it easy. He finds some strength in him after, an' helps get Roxy in the air, makes sure she's ok. He kills an entire mountain fulla people, makes Roxy check in with his Mum an' Daisy, makes her keep the only two people he'd really regret leavin' behind if he did go safe, then he kills Gazelle an' Valentine. An' they win. An' the world's safe, an' his family is safe, an' he thinks, maybe, he could keep goin' after all. That maybe he can find thing's ta live for after Harry.

An' then, just coz he saved the world, an' he's on an adrenalin high, an' Harry's gone an' he ain't even slightly in his right mind, he tries the sex thing one more time.

It don't work. He ain't barely touched her, before he's almost havin' a panic attack. He ends up with the Princesses number in his phone though, an' a new friend.

They start workin' on restorin' Kingsman, an' the world. He gets put on probationary status, until a new Arthur can be appointed to approve his placement, which is fine by him, because it means he can go on missions now, an' there are a fuck ton a missions ta get done. Half the leaders of the developed world are dead, an' more than a few of the rest, too. What's left, of the legit world as well as the underbelly, tries ta pick up the pieces, an' what's left of Kingsman works overtime ta make sure the right sorts of people move back inta power.

Thing's tick along nicely, he pushes his feelin's aside, lets his heart turn to steel an' granite again, thoughts of what coulda' bin' locked away deep inside, where they can't hurt him no more. The world slowly comes back together, he moves his Mum an' Daisy away to safety, Merlin gets Dean arrested an' locked up for good. He goes out drinkin' with Roxy when they can, an, most of all, he don't think about bein' broken, or about Harry's last words ta him, an' he keeps livin'.

An' then Harry _bloody_ Hart show's back up again


End file.
